Never Forget
by AnyaLily
Summary: A Balamb Garden reunion sparks old feelings between the comrades we know and love. How have they changed since the killing of the Sorceress? How are they the same? Where are their lives now? Pretty simple nostalgia-fic, with all the characters included. Rated T simply so I can have some leeway for potentially semi-mature themes and/or language.
1. One: Eyes on Me (S&I)

_Hey readers! :) Thanks for taking the time to read my fic. I really really enjoy FF8, and I got kind of nostalgic when I bought the game for the PC. So I decided I had to write something about it. A future fic, set 5 years post-game. Characters are mostly about 22-23 years old._

_Disclaimer: The vast majority of these characters, settings, plot references, etc. are the property of SquareEnix and their partners. Only specifically-mentioned characters are created by me. No copyright infringement intended._

_Anyways, I don't think I need to do much more for this intro, but I just wanted to say that I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and if you feel like reading, reviewing (including much appreciated constructive criticism), favouriting, etc. that would be a really huge encouragement for me, and I would really appreciate that! :)_

_Anyways, on with the story! Enjoy :)_

_~Anya_

* * *

Chapter 1: Eyes on Me

Selphie & Irvine

"Heeey, are you ready to go yet, Irvine?" Selphie called cheerfully up the stairs as her fiancé prepared himself to go out.

"Like, give me a minute, woman!" Irvine responded facetiously, with just a slight hint of genuine annoyance underneath it. His voice was muffled by the closed bathroom door so he had to yell in order to project down the 2 flights of stairs, to the front door where his fiancée was standing expectantly. "It takes me a while to brush my luscious mane! You just can't rush beauty!"

Selphie rolled her eyes.

"You better not be rolling your eyes!"

His fiancée smiled in spite of herself. He really did know her well. Dancing in place to keep herself occupied, she works to take the edge out of her voice. "Irv, hurry, please – we're going to be late! Finish your look so we can get going!"

"Yeah, yeah, in a second. Relax."

After what feels like an eternity, Irvine finally walks out of the bathroom. He walks down the stairs at a leisurely pace, and swishes his long brown hair to the side, like a supermodel. He grins, laughing at his own silly behaviour, and finally stands in front of Selphie, looking extremely proud of himself.

Selphie looks him up and down, and her concerned frown transforms into a dainty little smile.

"You like?" Irvine asks her, beaming.

"I like those pants, that dress shirt, annnnnnd, yep! You picked a nice jacket to go with it," Selphie chirps. "However, unfortunately, your hair is still a little funny. I think you should keep it tied back. You look a bit like a girl when it's down."

"Ouch, why don't you just stab me in the heart?" Irvine gasps, dramatically keeling over. "Never insult a dude's hair."

Selphie pays no attention. Just looks him up and down doubtfully, thinking carefully. "OK, here's what we're going to do!" As she says this, she walks over to the hall closet and turns around with a sparkly black hair tie in one hand, and a solid black leather cowboy hat in the other. "This was going to be a surprise for your birthday…but maybe I could give it to you now and you could wear it to the reunion?"

"Aww, shucks…" Irvine suddenly becomes speechless, as he gratefully and gently take the hair accessories from the grinning brown-haired girl. Tying his hair up with the hair tie, and plopping the leather hat on top, he turns back to Selphie and mimics a gun shot in her direction. "What do you think, babe?"

"I think you look like a million bucks!" Selphie says, holding her arms out to embrace Irvine.

"Well, I have to, in order to hold a candle next to this smokin' hot woman over here. You are jaw-droppingly gorgeous, baby." Irvine slowly spins Selphie around so he can watch the skirt of her sparkly light blue dress twirl flawlessly around her thin, porcelain legs.

"Awwwww, you are the sweetest," Selphie says happily, clapping her hands.

The couple smiles lovingly at each other before Selphie looks at the clock. "Oh nooooo, we're going to be late! It starts in only 20 minutes and it's going to take us 45 minutes to drive there! What a super mega bummer…"

Irvine feels guilty knowing that he caused Selphie's disappointment and decides he owes her an explanation. "Hey, Selph, I know you really wanted to go, and I'm sorry that I took so long and made us late…" He looks down in shame. "Honestly, I guess I was killing time in order to put off going to this thing. I'm really nervous."

Selphie's eyes widen. "Why?"

Irvine swallows once, and walks over to sit in a chair in their foyer. He twitches uncontrollably while sitting stoically, like he does whenever he is internally freaking out. "Well…I was the last to join the group. Squall was the leader of all of you, and, well, he didn't really like me. He never chose me as a party member unless he was forced to take me, and even though I tried my best, I just never felt heard. I didn't really bond well with the others, either, except for you. I was always the one who got forgotten. I was kind of the black sheep the whole time, trying to be accepted into a well-established clique, if you get my drift…"

Selphie thinks this over quietly, and steps close to Irvine. She puts her hand on his shoulder, and squeezes it gently as his hand comes up over hers. "Irvy, don't think like that. You were just as much a part of that group as Squall was. We were all friends, and even though some people in the group were closer than others doesn't mean the others were less important. Plus," she said, taking Irvine's face in her hand and kissing him on the forehead, "doesn't it matter more what _I_ think of you?" Here, she grinned and winked innocently.

Irvine smiled, though it seemed he still wasn't convinced. "Thanks Selph."

"Anytime!" Selphie nods cheerfully. "So you gonna come?"

"I guess so." He shrugs. "It would be a little weird if I could bring down the Sorceress, but couldn't even summon the courage to meet up with some old friends."

"Absolutely!"

"OK babe. Let's go get 'em."

"Let's go get 'em."

And with that, Selphie and Irvine locked the door to their loft, and got in the car to go meet the others at the Balamb Garden Post-Graduation Reunion.

* * *

_Thanks for reading - if you've got the time, I'd really appreciate a review! :)_

_~Anya_


	2. Two: Was it Real or Just my Fantasy? (S)

Chapter 2: Was it real or just my fantasy? (S)

Squall sat alone on the fold-out cot in his bachelor apartment, with his head in his hands. He had just let an officially-stamped letter fall to the floor, and once again he resented his feelings of forced obligation, a feeling he knew all too well. He had just been through a lot this year, and he had no interest in rekindling old memories that had only stressed and annoyed him in the past. Who cares if he had led the SeeDs to victory against Ultimecia? That was done, and he should be allowed to get on with his life and forget all of it. Move forward, and find something else to do with his life.

"Dear Squall Leonhart – I'm pleased to inform you that you have been invited to the fifth annual Balamb Garden Post-Graduation Gala for the Year 18 Graduating Class, the Sorceress Year. We are hoping to have a wonderful dinner reunion with all those in the graduating class present…"

_Blah, blah, blah. Official itinerary of the evening, mention of guest speakers, games, whatever crap else they want to do… please RSVP._

Then, for an especially passive-aggressive addition to this already guilt-heavy letter, there was an additional, scrawled handwritten note from Headmaster Cid. Curt, but never to-the-point, as usual.

"Squall,

You haven't been to a single reunion, and no one has seen or heard from you since graduation. It is of the utmost importance that you come to speak at this gala. Everyone is waiting for their fearless leader to return in good spirits. In fact, many of the people coming to this gala want to see you, and only you. I had to put a lot of effort into finding your address, and that should indicate the extent to which I want to speak with you. As this is my last year before I retire, I need to talk to you about something extremely important. This may be my last chance. Please come tonight, early, so you can speak to me privately in my office. Consider this my last order.

–Headmaster Cid."

_What a strange letter. _

Squall considered the weight of this decision. He had no obligation or interest in going to this. He didn't want to see any of the others. It hurt him to think of them. He had withdrawn from them almost immediately after the defeat of Ultimecia, not wanting them to witness him nursing wounds that would never heal. Not wanting any of them to rely on him, or worse, expect him to rely on them. He hadn't spoken to them in years.

_Well, with the exception of… _

"Rinoa." He said softly, feeling a bit numb. They had stayed together since the battle with the Sorceress, and been blissfully married for a couple years. Before things started getting "stale", "predictable", and "unexciting", in her words. They had amicably separated a few weeks ago, after the argument about children was brought up again, and Squall insisted he would never change his mind. Rinoa had said that even though she loved him, she simply couldn't be with someone who didn't share her views and goals in life, or who didn't have any of his own to speak of. She insisted they had nothing in common anymore except for the fighting the Sorceress, and that she shared with all the others as well. The last conversation they had ended with: "I'm not in a relationship with them, Squall, I'm with you! Give me something different, give me something special for once. You treat me like I'm invisible and not here. It's like there's no point us being together." When Squall said nothing and retreated into his own mind, Rinoa's mind was made up, and they took their separate ways the next morning. He received the divorce papers last week, and was still procrastinating filling them out.

Despite losing his wife, and his closest friend he'd kept over the years, he didn't feel upset. He just felt…nothing. It was probably stupid to be with her. What had they ever had in common? Nothing. Would his need to grit his teeth every time he heard her talking have gone away after a few more years? Doubtful. So even if this move was good for both of them, it didn't put Squall further ahead with what and where he wanted to be in his life. He was 22 years old, and still didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. He was unemployed, he had no friends, he was totally anti-social, and yet still he found himself itching for a fight again. He'd been reminiscing about Balamb Garden ever since he left it, but at the same time, tried to push it away as the past. Past is past, and he needed to move forward. The others did too. No sense living in the past. Though, the recently polished Lionheart in the trophy case in his locked closet suggested otherwise…

_Maybe I should go. _Silence._ Maybe I shouldn't go. _Squall realized neither option gave him a single feeling of contentment. Or anything, really. If he went, he was again fulfilling someone else's imposed obligations on him. Like a good little soldier. If he stayed, he'd be sitting and doing nothing and being alone with his thoughts. _If I go, I'm going to have to tell everyone that I'm divorced and not doing anything. If I go, I'll have nothing going for me. I'll be the loser of the group._

_But it's better than sitting here and thinking about what a loser I am. _

_Why can't I just have a normal, happy life…alone?_

Squall slammed his hand on his coffee table out of frustration, rattling the tea perched precariously close to the edge. _Dammit! I don't want to do this!_

Yet, he grudgingly checked his watch. He could make it if he left now. Feeling detached from the rest of himself, he felt himself getting up and moving towards the door.

_I hate this._

* * *

Squall is still his angsty self as you can see. And I broke Squall and Rinoa up because I hated Rinoa, and decided for Squall to go in a different direction. Check back later to see what happens next! Next chapter features our good buddy Zell. :)

Hope you enjoyed this. I greatly appreciate reviews, if you're willing to write one. Thanks for reading!  
~Anya


	3. Three: Same Old Songs Just Once More (Z)

Chapter 3: Same Old Songs, Just Once More

"3 Polish sausages with mustard, ketchup, relish, hot peppers, and green olives!" blares the intercom of the Balamb Garden cafeteria.

"Hmm," Zell says aloud, wiping the sweat off his hairnet-covered brow, "Dude has good taste."

"Hey, Dincht, you should really get a move on. I don't want us to get disciplined again."

"Yeah, yeah, watch me in action first, new guy, and then tell me I'm not fast enough." While yelling mock-karate screams, Zell slices the sausages down the middle, cooks all three at the same time, browns them perfectly on both side, flips all three into the freshly buttered hot dog buns he'd set out as the sausages were cooking, and piles on the desired toppings within a matter of minutes, if not seconds. "Order up!" he yells, as he presses the "completed order" buzzer.

New Guy's jaw dropped. "Whoa…you're a pro."

Zell grinned sheepishly. "Let's just say I had lots of practice on the other end of the counter during my years as a student at Balamb Garden."

"Were the screams really necessary?"

"Yes, yes. Of course they were. It's how I get into the zone."

The new team member shrugged incredulously. "Uh huh."

"Hey, don't look at me like that, buddy. You still have a lot to learn from me before you can go off and trash my methods, ya noob."

"My name is Keenith."

Zell just ruffled the unamused kid's hair and laughed, just as the speaker came on again.

"OK guys, we have a big advance order coming. Tomorrow night is the Year 18 Graduating Class Post-Graduation Reunion Gala. Headmaster Cid says he needs it catered by us, and it needs to be good. We have an order for 40 hot dogs, and 20 Polish, Italian, and German sausages. I need you guys to show up at 6 tomorrow morning so we can do this on time. Check the inventory, and restock and freeze products as needed. We're starting now, and closing up shop for the rest of today so we can prepare for this mass order. No stupidity, no screw-ups, no wasting time." _Click. _There were yells of frustration as the cafeteria turned away all the other patrons who had not yet received their hot dogs. Zell knew all too well how they must be feeling now, but that wasn't the point.

"Damn, that's an order of 100!" Zell said, his clenched fists shaking in anticipation.

"Is that even possible to do in a day?" Keenith asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"It is when you've got me." Zell puffed himself up into a brave mercenary pose. "The Secret Weapon…the Hot Dog Slinger."

Keenith stifled a giggle.

"Shut up, I can't pick the nickname other people give me. Besides, it sounds bad-ass."

"It sounds bad. Period."

Zell counted to ten and found that he was able to calm himself down. The anger management/stress reduction classes he'd taken as a prerequisite to getting this job definitely paid off. He could have done without the mandatory yoga though.

"Keenith, I like my nickname, and that's what matters. I cannot control what you think of it, but I can control what I think."

"Yeah, whatever," the kid scoffed, as he set to work with making the first 1/40 hotdogs.

_Little shit. _Zell's emotions still weren't perfectly in check.

But something just clicked. "Wait…that's our year!" Zell said aloud. "That's our graduating class. Has it actually been five years already? Wow…" Zell had gone every single year, and every year found that he was the only one from the old group in attendance. He was planning on not going after last year, when he was forced to talk to Rajin and Fujin all alone for three hours (they weren't the best conversationalists), and not ONE of his old buddies arrived, for the 4th time in a row. If he hadn't been forced to cater as part of the CafeteamTM, he wouldn't even give attendance to this thing a second thought.

_Whatever, it's not like anyone's actually going to show up…Guess it's just going to be me and the disciplinary committee again…Fifth time's the charm. At least there'll be plenty of hot dogs._

* * *

Just a short one. I was really just going for comic relief on this one, after the somewhat angsty things that happened in the Squall chapter. Ha. Next up will be Rinoa, surprisingly, followed by Quistis, the last member of our little group. Hope you enjoyed this one, and keep your eyes peeled for the next one! I'm hopefully going to start cranking them out fairly fast.

As always, reading, reviewing, following/starring is always very much appreciated! Have a great day, and thanks for reading :)

~Anya


	4. Four: Maybe Yes, Maybe No (R)

Chapter 4: Maybe Yes, Maybe No (R)

The door slams, and Rinoa collapses onto her bedroom floor on the other side of it. Her back touches the door, and her extremely tense body shakes uncontrollably. Fists balled, and teeth clenched, she vows that this is the last straw.

She had another fight with her father… It was bad enough that she had been forced to move back into his house after her life crumbled again. It got worse when he didn't seem surprised that things didn't work out. It got worse when they couldn't get along. And Rinoa was sure it would only get worse the more time she spent there. She for once thought that her mom was lucky to have died, in order to escape from his banal, know-it-all, incessantly perfect self.

"I hate him…I hate him…I hate him!"

She screams in frustration before picking up the closest thing to her, which happens to be a plastic cup, and throws it at her window. As it leaves her fingers, she already regrets what she has done. It sails through the air, curves parabolically before making contact with the window…where it thankfully bounces off and clatters on the floor.

Despite her fury, Rinoa feels grateful that in her tirade, she didn't manage to break anything. She does have a bit of a temper, she's willing to admit. That may be something to work on to make herself better.

Newly single, thanks to her still-unfinalized divorce with Squall, Rinoa is almost ready to get out and meet new people. Almost. She still felt held back for some reason. Maybe it's because her wedding-ring-tan was still visible. Maybe it was because her lip still curls in contempt whenever she thinks of…him. Or maybe she feels like a floosy knowing that she is going out and dating despite still legally being attached to another man. Likely all of the above.

Rinoa got up, walked to her bed, and curled up in a ball under it, where she knew no one could get to her. She remembered doing this as a little girl whenever she was upset. Here, she fell asleep and her subconscious filled with thoughts of yesterday's revelation.

* * *

_Yesterday_

"I need to better myself," she says suddenly over tea to a girlfriend. "Maybe all my problems with men aren't simply because they're egotistical, cold, self-destructive donkeys. Maybe it's my fault."

"No," says her friend. "It's not your fault. They were bad men, and you can do so much better."

Rinoa sighs. "Only some of them were bad. Others were sweet and cute, but wrong for me in every way…but at the same time exactly what I thought I needed. That's probably the problem, right there." _Squall was exactly what I needed. Maybe I don't even know what I need._

"Maybe you should be single for a while and think about what you want in a guy. Worked wonders for me."

"I do need a break from guys, honestly."

Her friend laughs heartily and winks. "So does that mean you want to try –"

"Noooo," Rinoa laughs. "No. I just mean I need to take some time for myself and figure out what I want for myself. I can't factor in another person until I know where I'm going, right?"

Her friend looks at her incredulously. "This, coming from the person who hasn't been single since she grew boobs at fifteen?"

Rinoa makes a face. "Shut up." She pauses before adding, "And it did not take me that long to grow boobs!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Now, shall we change the subject?"

"No."

The woman across the table gives her a sarcastic stare, her arms crossed expectantly.

"Genevra, you've known me since childhood. Can you help me decide what I should work on?"

"Work on?"

"Yes. I need to make improvements to my character, and then maybe I'll develop higher standards for myself. I'm the most powerful sorceress in Hyne. I can't exactly settle for just anyone."

"There's no wrong answer to this?" Genevra cocks her head to one side, suspiciously.

"Right."

"And you won't scratch me if I tell you what I think you should fix?"

"Nooooo, of course not."

"Okay." Genevra's face clouds slightly, and Rinoa knows she's not going to like what she's going to hear. "Well, I think that it might do you good to work on your…maturity."

Rinoa nods, and tries to keep her face neutral.

"Just because, you know, I think that at times, you can be a little bit childish, and act cute all the time, but not everyone might think you're cute. And the people who do think you're cute might not be the right person for you."

"Mmhmm?"

"Yeah. If maybe you were more mature and more powerful, like a sorceress should be, then maybe more powerful and more mature men would be attracted to you. Not a bunch of losers who want a cute little girlfriend."

"Yeah, maybe."

"When you're more mature, you are smart, powerful, and independent. Oh yeah, independence is good too. You should work on your strength so you can be strong without a man. It's so easy to fall into a trap where you think that you need a guy to complete you, and you get so dependent on him."

"But I like being rescued…" Rinoa says in a small voice.

"Yes, and once in a while is okay. But how much did you depend on Seifer? Squall? Your other boyfriends? Then what happened? They let you down. A mature, strong, independent woman takes care of herself more than she relies on others to take care of her."

Rinoa doesn't say anything in response.

"I didn't mean to say this and make you feel defeated. Honestly, I think that everyone could stand to further develop their maturity and independence. Especially at our age. We're in our twenties! Fledglings! Young-'uns! We've got all this time to better ourselves and work to become strong. Strength is an elusive state of mind. Some people spend their whole lives and still aren't satisfied with who they are at the end of it. In the end, it doesn't matter what I think, or a guy thinks, it only matters what you think of yourself. And if you're strong, you can look at yourself and know that even though you're weak sometimes, you can make up for it with strength and class the rest of the time, and that overall, you're damn awesome."

The subject changes to shoes, and babies, and work, and suddenly Rinoa feels self-reflective. She's barely listening anymore. Instead, she finds herself realizing that Genevra is right, and that she could stand to do a bit of self-improvement. She just doesn't know how to start, though. All she knows is that she does really need to grow up.

* * *

Sorry for the hiatus! University has been kicking my butt lately.

I hope you like this little bit of Rinoa. Even though she and Squall have broken up doesn't mean her story is over.

As usual, I really really appreciate reading and reviewing :) Constructive criticism also welcomed - if you hate this, feel free to tell me, and I'll try working with it differently. Thanks so much everyone!

Next chapter will be about Quistis.

~Anya


	5. Five: On the Stage, On My Own (Q)

Chapter 5: On the Stage, On my Own (Q)

Driving is the best way to calm nerves. It doesn't matter what the problem is. Getting through the loss of an instructor licence, several rejections by parents, friends, lovers, or even the death of the only people who ever loved you, long ago. Coping with the idea that you're not loved by anyone, and that there's no one on this earth who would accept love from you without recoiling. Knowing that you're cursed, and that misfortune seems to befall anyone close to you. Feeling totally uncared about and ignored unless people need you to be an oracle, or a mom.

_Or is that just me_? Quistis wonders, rounding the bend of yet another corner.

Quistis doesn't remember ever feeling this alone. She had friends for a while. They felt real. They remembered her the way she's always been, the voice of reason. And she was that for them, for a long time. But then what happened after they defeated the sorceress? No contact for long outstanding periods of time. No one needed her. Everyone was too busy living their own lives, being happily coupled up and complete, without thinking twice about her.

"I was the seventh," Quistis says in a soft, defeated voice. _There was nothing left for me._

She looks back on those days in shame – just recently, she'd been a total idiot. After trying fruitlessly to get any of her friends to answer her calls, or letters, or to agree to get together, she withdrew into herself, and gave up on everyone. _Except him. _But even then, that was fleeting. She doesn't have anyone anymore. She felt that her problems were too big to talk to her best friend, Xu, about, especially considering the fact that not seeing each other as often as they had before had taken a toll on their relationship. They were nothing but small-talk friends now, but that was all she had.

And, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Three months ago, she'd received a letter from Cid after hearing nothing for the longest time, or at least, longer than she would have liked. He asked to see her, because he was worried about her not attending any of the class reunions, and wanted to make sure she was still alive. They met up for tea, greeted each other with the usual Balamb Garden salute as if nothing had changed, and chatted about current events, despite neither of them having much to report. After about an hour or so, Cid finally broached the subject he had wanted to discuss with her that whole time. He apologized for how things were left, the letting her go and passing along the hurtful criticism that added insult to injury. The lack of response to any of her messages, and simply not being in communication for the five years after the sorceress assassination. He said he wanted to start from the top: the initial dismissal order had come from the board, not him, and it was important that she knew that. "It was unnecessarily harsh, and, frankly, extremely misguided. You've been nothing but a fine instructor, and Balamb was lucky to have you for the short time that we had you."

Quistis couldn't help but be suspicious. This was weird to hear, five years after her dismissal. This had been five years of being bounced from part-time job to part-time job, finding nothing she liked, let alone _loved _as fiercely as she'd loved the instructor job, and living in squalor due to not being able to afford decent living. After a pause, she looked him stiffly in the eyes, and said in a flat voice, "With all due respect, Headmaster, may I ask what has changed from the last time we discussed my employment at Balamb Garden?"

Cid sighed, and sipped his tea before continuing. "The dissolution of the previous board (the NORG board) has only been official as of last Wednesday," began Cid simply. "I've only just got access to the employment records of the decade, when they took over. This includes your record."

Cid was never one to get to the point.

"I found out that the complaints and negative performance reviews against you were, in fact, greatly exaggerated. Even completely fabricated, in some places. I have a theory as to why this is, and it's because your records of poor performance appeared only after you had been assigned to the SeeD team. The board must have wanted you out, and did what they knew would result in your immediate dismissal. You were likely to survive, and the risk of you finding out the truth about NORG was high."

Quistis flinched. Five years had passed, but the memory of having her job taken and her ass handed to her certainly was fresh. When Squall had refused to talk to her, she'd gone to her dormitory and cried all night.

"Balamb Garden was, and will always be your home. There will always be a place for you just as there will always be a place for me. We have equal right to it, and yours should never have been lost. I can't apologize enough, and I hope that you'll come to the reunion this year and we'll talk about your future at Balamb Garden."

Quistis's eyes flickered with excitement. _Could she actually be getting her job back? Could this really be happening? _"Date, sir?"

"Three months from today. May the seventh. Nineteen hundred hours in the quad. Please be there."

Quistis agreed to it, happily, thinking that everything would be fine, that she would get back to work, and that everything would look up. She smiled at the thought of seeing her friends, and potentially rekindling the camaraderie they had had during the fight with the sorceress. Everything would go back to normal, and she would be able to stop her current period of depression and intellectual stagnation. She was itching to fight and couldn't wait to get back to rousing pedagogy. It was such a rewarding occupation, and there was nothing she wanted to do more.

That afternoon, she received a call from her doctor, finalizing the routine bloodwork results she'd done last week. It was in this call she was informed that thankfully she was healthy. However, she was shocked to find out that she was approximately five weeks pregnant, and exactly at the end of her rope.

* * *

Hey guys, thanks again for reading! :) I've decided to take another twist here as well. Feel free to let me know what you think in a review! :)

I'm going to lean away from single-POVs from this point on (not eliminating them completely, just experimenting with some different ideas). Everyone's going to be arriving at the reunion in the next chapter(s) and I'm most likely going to incorporate POVs and characters. Hard to explain, but I hope you'll stay on board~!

Thanks so much for sticking with this extremely strange fic. Your reads, reviews, favourites, and constructive criticism mean the world to me as a writer.

Have a wonderful day, and hope to hear from you! :)

~Anya


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